Falling on Old Habits is Easy to Do
by Katlover98
Summary: It's been a month since Sam has told Dean everything that happened to him while Dean was in purgatory. But, Sam has had too much time on his hands to think about his capture and humiliation and Sam is falling into a dangerous spiral that has him doing old habits. Sequel to "While You Were Gone" WARNING:SELF HARM, MENTIONS OF RAPE AND SUICIDE.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters.**

**Warning: Contains self-harm, suicidal thoughts, aftermath and mention of rape, and talk of torture.**

**Enjoy.**

Sam was tired, and not only the 'want to go to bed and knock the fuck out' kinda tired, but just tired of everyday life in general. He wasn't suicidal; he knew that much. Why would he want to kill himself if he had his brother by his side again? If he was back in the nuthouse he would've been diagnosed with depression, _again_. Part of Sam's depression was guilt; he felt guilty that he was feeling depressed because he knew how hard Dean was trying to help Sam. The other main reason was because _of _Dean.

Sam knew his brother was trying to help him but at times Sam felt pressured. Dean would ask Sam _constantly_ for the name of his attackers, how'd they looked like, where they lived and Sam couldn't tell him. He didn't want Dean going after his human attackers and getting more blood spilled because of Sam. Sam had gotten enough blood on his hands after he started the apocalypse and what he did while he was soulless. No, Sam wouldn't tell him even though he knew that Dean was bloodthirsty for revenge.

That wasn't all of the reason though. Dean would just not let Sam out of his sights. Whenever Sam went out for more than a minute or two Dean would call him every five minutes asking Sam if 'he was fine' or 'if needed Dean to go get him.' Sam had stopped going on his early morning runs for that same reason.

Two days after Sam spilled the beans he decided to go for a run. He didn't leave Dean a note figuring that he would be back before Dean even woke up and even if he did wake up he assumed Dean would just figure it out and go back to sleep. He assumed wrong.

When Sam got back to the motel room he noticed that the Impala was gone. Sam shrugged it off thinking that Dean had woken up and went to get breakfast. When Sam entered the motel room he took off his music and noticed that he had twenty missed call and ten messages. With every message he heard he went paler and paler. All the messages had been from Dean asking him 'where the hell are you' and 'why the hell aren't you answering your phone' and 'please, Sammy, just answer the phone and be okay'. The last message was Dean saying he was going out to look for him and if Sam had tried to run away again he was going to drag his ass back home and cuff Sam to Dean.

Sam quickly called Dean and told him he was back in the motel room. Not even five minutes later he heard the Impala coming down the road and screeching to a halt in front of their motel room. Before Sam could go open the door Dean was already through it checking Sam for wounds, ignoring him when he said he was fine.

Once Dean was satisfied that Sam was alright he started asking him, "Where the hell were you? I thought you had been kidnapped or ran away."

Sam felt a little hurt that Dean would think that Sam would leave him just like that but he knew where Dean was coming from anyway and answered him, "I went running, Dean. Just I like I do every morning, remember?"

"So, what you just didn't want to talk to me and kept ignoring my calls?"

"Of course not! I didn't hear your calls; I was running and listening to my music. I didn't purposely ignore you."

"What, you forgot how to write? You could've left me a note so I wouldn't wake up and think that you had been kidnapped!" Dean basically screamed the last part but Sam knew it wasn't because Dean was mad at him; it was because he had been worried.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

"It better not."

The next day he woke up, left Dean a note saying he was going to go running and went to do his morning routine. Dean would call Sam every ten minutes asking him if he was okay. He couldn't really run because he had to keep stopping to answer Dean's calls so he just decided to stop going out. Dean didn't comment on Sam's decision but Sam was sure Dean felt more relieved that way.

That wasn't where it stopped, though. Anytime Sam would go out on a supply run or to go get food from the diner Dean just would not stop calling him if he wasn't near Sam. He would just keep calling and calling that it had gotten to the point that Sam would just go with Dean because even if Sam was in the motel by himself, Dean would call a lot, too. Frankly Sam was starting to feel claustrophobic about it all.

Sam suddenly yawned and Dean turned to look at him, "tired, Sammy?"

Dean turned to look at the dashboard's clock and he saw that it was eight at night. They had been driving since six in the morning.

"Yeah, I'm tired, too. I'll stop on the next motel that we see. I have to restock our pockets with more cash, have to find some bars around here."

Sam just nodded and sunk deeper into the seats, "Dean, what are we doing?"

"What do you mean? We're driving, going to find a motel, get some rest and tomorrow night I'm going to hustle a bunch of drunken idiots."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. What're we doing? We're literally just driving towards random places every day, stopping at night to sleep and eat then we just drive again. We haven't been on a case for a whole month now."

Dean just sighed and pulled up to a decent looking motel, "Sam, I just want to take a break. I think we deserve it, besides we're not the only hunters, I'm pretty sure there's a bunch of them picking up cases."

"This isn't about what I told you, right? You're not doing this as a misguided attempt to keep me 'safe', right? Because if it is I'm telling you this right now, Dean, stop. I'm okay to hunt; I'm not going to have a panic attack in the middle of digging up a grave. I can handle it, Dean, I promise. I've been hunting with you these past few months and I've been fine." Sam saw Dean's knuckles go white as he gripped the steering wheel harder.

"Of course not, like I said, I think we deserve a break. We've been through a lot shit these past few years. I'm tired of fighting monsters and having to defend this stupid planet. I just want to drive for a while longer without having to worry about anybody else but you and me. Hey, if you want we can go to Vegas, maybe we can get lucky and win a million bucks, how about it?"

Sam just looked at Dean, rolled his eyes and told Dean to go get a room. Dean got out and went into the office. Sam could tell that Dean was checking outside to make sure Sam was okay. Sam just rolled his eyes and said, annoyed, "big brothers, man."

Dean got in the car, threw the key saying 'room 23' and drove up to it. Dean got both of their duffels; he's been doing that since Sam told him his secret. Sam got in front of Dean so he could open the door; at least Dean still let him do that. The room was pretty decent especially after some of the dumps they had stayed in. It had two queen size beds, the wallpaper wasn't chipped or falling off and it was a light green color. The usual table, three chairs and, hey, they even had a fridge and, bonus points no weird smell or suspicious stains anywhere.

"Okay, Sammy, I'm going to hit the hay. I'm pretty tired."

"Yeah, I'm going to shower first, I wasn't able to this morning," Sam started getting his clothes to take in the bathroom. Even though Dean has found out Sam just can't change in front of him. The night after Dean found out Sam did the same thing. Dean frowned and told Sam, "You know you don't have to hide. I know, Sammy and it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Sam just looked at Dean and went into the bathroom not wanting to explain. He knew if he did try to tell his reasoning to Dean, he would shut him down and say that it wasn't Sam's fault and he shouldn't feel bad about himself. But how couldn't he? All of his sins were written all over his body, not just his soul anymore.

Sam went into the bathroom, stripped all his clothes and put the shower in the highest setting he could stand, which was a lot. He was a little surprise that this place had a bathtub and not just a shower. Sam couldn't wait to get into the tub. Ever since he told Dean about his unwanted imprisonment he has felt dirty. He felt trapped in his own skin and at times he could swear that there were little bugs crawling right under his skin.

The moment he got into the shower he felt _so _much better. He remembered when he was in the nuthouse that he would take multiple showers a day, the orderlies kept checking up on him and making sure he didn't boil himself in the shower.

There was just something about being in the hot water that made Sam feel clean. Unfortunately, the moment he got out he felt dirty again. He shampooed his hair and then went to scrub himself raw with the sponge. He was careful not to do it too hard, though, just enough so his skin could get a light pink. When Sam got out of the tub he felt a little better and cleaner, but he knew that was just temporary and the moment he was lying in the bed he felt dirty again.

At night, Sam couldn't go to sleep and he kept having random flashbacks of his time in that God awful basement. Sam turned his head to look at Dean; he was sleeping and by that smile on his face he was having a good dream that Sam didn't want to know about. Lucky Dean.

By the time Sam fell asleep it had been two in the morning. Even in his dreams he couldn't escape. He kept dreaming of not only his time with his captors but also his time in the cage when he was Lucifer's and Michael's little play thing. He woke up with a gasp and his sheets were covered with sweat. He checked the time and saw that it was five in the morning. He knew that he wouldn't be able to go to back to sleep so he got up. Sam saw that Dean was still fast asleep so he decided to go out for a run. He put on his sweatpants and his sweatshirt and was just about to go open the door when Dean was suddenly awake.

"Where you going," he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep so I decided to go on a run. Don't worry I'll bring back breakfast."

"Don't forget to take your phone."

"Dean, please promise me that you won't be calling me every five minutes. I'll be fine, I'm a big boy I can take care of myself."

"Sam…"

"No, please Dean. I'm fine, I'll be fine, please stop worrying. I'll call you every twenty minutes if you want. I just want to go on a run, I'll pick up breakfast and it'll be fine."

Dean put his hands up in the air in resignation, "Fine, Sam, fine. Go on your run but you better call me when you can. Also, do not take too long and don't forget to get me something extra greasy for breakfast."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, a heart attack for breakfast, I know."

"And Sam, don't forget the pie."

Sam smiled at that, "I won't."

Sam felt so much better running. It gave him the illusion of running away from his nightmares not to mention he got a little space from Dean _and _he didn't feel smothered. Those feelings were short lived, though, because about twenty-five minutes later, Dean was calling him. 'Seriously,' Sam thought as he picked up his phone.

"Hello?"

"Sam, are you okay. You didn't call me in twenty minutes like you said you would."

"Dean, I didn't literally mean every twenty minutes. God, I just want to go on a run without interruptions, is that too much to ask for?"

"Yes, actually, it is. Just finish your run, Sam; I won't call again for another half hour, how's that?"

Sam sighed, knowing that's the best he'll get from Dean, "Fine, see you soon."

Sam started jogging back to the motel room but, as he promised, he went to go get breakfast. He 'accidentally' forgot the pie that Dean asked for and got vanilla cake with a butt load of frosting that he knew Dean hated. When Sam got back to their room he felt irritated and cranky.

Sam entered in the room and put the food on the table, "breakfast's here."

Dean got up and started looking through the bags then he took out the cake, "dude, where's the pie?"

"They didn't have any, but I got you cake. Close enough, right?"

"No dude, it's not the same thing. Cake is disgusting and pie is an orgasm in your mouth."

"Whatever you say, I'm gonna go shower."

Dean looked up at Sam. Dean had read the records, how Sam went to take hot showers multiple times and would scrub himself so hard that he would take of little chunks of skin sometimes. The fact that Sam wanted to shower again even though he did last night was sending warning bells.

"Didn't you shower last night?"

Sam froze a little but then made himself relax, "Yeah, but I just went running and I'm sweaty and dirty. I think that constitutes another shower."

Sam quickly went into the bathroom so he could escape anymore questions from Dean. He stripped and got in the tub, relishing the hot water cascading down his body. Sam stayed in the shower for a good forty minutes and then got out. It wasn't until he was drying himself that he noticed that he had forgotten his clothes outside in his haste to escape Dean.

'Great, just great, how can you be so stupid,' he berated himself. Sam closed his eyes, took deep breath and steeled himself to go outside and change in front of Dean. When Sam went to open the doorknob he saw his hand was shaking.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Sam steeled himself again and opened the door before he lost the nerve and stepped outside. Dean just looked up and then went back to eating his breakfast. Sam let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding.

"About time princess, I thought you were having a bad time putting on makeup."

"Shut up, asshole."

Sam turned his back on Dean and went through his duffel to look for some clothes. He put on his boxers without taking his towel off then went to put on his pants and lastly, his shirts. When he turned around he could see a flash of anger in Dean's eyes even though he was trying to hide it well. Sam froze, he felt like a child that had just been caught doing something bad by a parent.

'This is it,' he thought, 'Dean is going to call me disgusting and then leave me all alone.' But Dean just cleared his throat and continued eating his breakfast. Sam felt stupid. Dean wouldn't leave him but he can still get angry at Sam; he should been smart enough to remember to take his clothes in the bathroom next time. Dean may not say outright, but he probably blamed Sam for what happened and didn't want to see Sam's disgusting body anymore. Sam mentally nodded his head and vowed never to forget to take a change of clothes every time he showered.

They spent the rest of the day lazing around and watching whatever was on T.V and they concluded for the millionth time that daytime T.V sucked. They ordered carry out for lunch and by seven Dean started getting ready to go hustle in bars. Dean wanted Sam to come with him but Sam didn't want to be around people and he definitely didn't want people to see him. Throughout the day Sam kept remembering that look of anger in Dean's eyes and his worry kept growing and growing. He couldn't stop having flashbacks from that month stuck in the basement, the other months in the hospital believing Dean was dead and his time in the pit. He felt dirty, tired and wrung out, though he did try to hide it from Dean so he wouldn't suspect something; Sam figured it was just a waste of energy anyway.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"I'm sure, Dean. I'm tired, couldn't sleep well last night, I'm going to try and catch up right now."

"Fine, I should be back by one if not earlier, depending how well it goes. I might not be able to call you as frequently, is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Like I said I want to catch up on my sleep."

"Okay, take care of yourself, Sammy. Make sure the salt lines aren't broken before you go to bed. Also, there's free Skinemax, so knock yourself out."

"First of all, ew, second of all, I'm not a kid. I know how to take care of myself so stop it."

"Alright, fine, I'll see you later then."

As soon as Dean left, Sam quickly got ready for bed and lied down. Sam was really tired and couldn't wait to fall asleep, but try as he might he just…couldn't. Sam was just too restless. He kept tossing and turning, one minute he was hot so he took off his covers then he was too cold and he put the covers back on. It kept going like this for a whole hour before he finally gave up and laid on bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Unfortunately, the quiet gave Sam too much time to think. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the flash backs he kept having. Sam could feel his tormentors' hands all over his body, smell their breath, he could hear their laughter and taunts. The taunts were the worst, Sam really wanted Dean.

'Dean's gone, remember? He is dead,' it was the voice of the man who captured him that he could hear.

"No, no he's not. He's in a bar right now, hustling to get more money," he said out loud. All he heard was more taunting laughter. Sam got up and started pacing the room. Sam felt a million little bugs crawling just under his skin and no matter how much or how hard he scratched they just wouldn't leave.

"I have to call Dean," Sam lunged towards his phone and scrolled up to Dean's number but just as he was about to push the call button, he hesitated. Didn't Dean already worry enough? If Sam called, he would abandoned whatever he was doing and come running (driving really fast) back. Besides, Sam had told Dean that he was a big boy and could take care of himself. If he called Dean now, he would never let Sam out of his sight for as long as they lived. No, he wouldn't call Dean, besides they really needed the money and what if Dean was having fun or chatting up someone and Sam ruined that?

No, what Sam needed was to take a long, long bath. He went through his duffel, chose some clothes and was about to close the duffel when something else caught his eyes. It was the demon killing knife. Sam suddenly felt the need to cut himself. He couldn't help the feeling as he kept staring at the knife. Maybe if he cut himself the bugs under his skin would leave.

He didn't worry that Dean would find out since this morning he vowed that he would never go to take a shower without taking his clothes. Besides, he remembered when he would cut himself with whatever he could get his hands on in the psych unit. It had felt so good. Whenever he felt like everything was overwhelming he would just start cutting his arms and it he would feel such an immense relief.

Without thinking about it twice he took the demon killing knife and took it in the bathroom with him. He made sure he put the hot water in its highest setting; steam started coming from the tub. Sam quickly stripped and then he saw a wired sponge. 'Perfect,' he thought and got it. He went into the shower and immediately his skin started to redden. Sam then got the knife and started cutting himself on his arms. The new cuts were overlapping his old scars. Once Sam started, he couldn't stop. He kept cutting and cutting, trying to find the bugs that were under his skin.

When the his hands were too slippery because of the blood coming down, he let the knife fall in the water, put soap on the wired sponge and started scrubbing himself so he could get clean. This kept going on until Dean found him a few hours later.

Dean got to the bar at eight twenty-five and he immediately knew he was going to win big bucks. There were a group of drunken college students being noisy. Dean could tell that they were wearing expensive clothes and they wouldn't mind losing some of their parent's money, especially since they were drunk. Dean smiled to himself and went up to the group. First he bought everyone a round of beer and he was pretending to drink so he could act drunk. He then challenged some of them to a round of darts. At first he was pretending to lose and then he goaded them into putting money in it.

"No way, dude, you suck. You'll just lose all your money," one of them said.

"Don't worry about me, or are you just too afraid to put your money where your mouth is? Afraid you'll lose in front of these lovely ladies," he said with a wink towards the giggling girls.

"Fine, just remember what we said when you lose."

At first Dean kept pretending to lose then he won a little bit and then he lost again. Suddenly he got a bad feeling and he felt he needed to get back to the motel to check on Sam.

"One more, boys," he said, trying to still act drunk.

"Whatever you say, dude." Dean let them all go first, they were so hammered they completely missed the bulls-eye. Dean quickly aligned the dart and made a bulls-eye. He knew it was a risk to do that because they might catch on that he was hustling them and it could get violent quickly but, they just groaned and the group dispersed.

Dean quickly collected the money he had earned and got into his baby completely ignoring the looks some women were giving him. Dean got his cellphone out and called Sam's number. When it went to voice mail he accelerated so he could get to Sam quicker.

'It's probably nothing. Maybe Sam is asleep and he couldn't hear his phone ringing.'

Sam had been having nightmares the whole month and would wake Dean up. He would go sit by Sam and calm him down by petting his hair and talking softly to him. The next morning Sam would completely forget that Dean had helped him through the night and he was okay with that, he didn't want Sam to feel embarrassed in the morning. Of course, Sam's dark circle under his eyes showed his lack of sleep at night. Last night had been particularly bad. Sam would not calm down, he kept tossing and turning and he had literally sweated through the sheets. When Dean noticed that Sam was about to wake up he quickly got into his bed and pretended to sleep.

It gave Dean some hope that Sam had been tired enough to go to sleep even though it was just eleven at night. That hope soon died when Dean opened the door and saw Sam's bed was empty.

"Sam!" Dean started looking around hoping his brother was on the table on his laptop but, no dice. That's when he noticed the bathroom door was closed and the lights were on. Dean went to door and tried to open it but found it locked. Dean started pounding on the door, with his heart in his throat.

"Sam, open this door now or I'll knock it down! Sam!" Dean kept pounding but Sam wouldn't answer. He put his ear up against the door and heard soft sobbing.

"That's it, Sam, I'm coming in. Step away from the door," Dean kicked the door twice before it gave way and when he got in he almost had a heart attack.

Sam was in the tub, but instead of the water being clear it was a light pink color. Sam was scrubbing himself bloody with a wired sponge that only God knows where it came from. He was sobbing and completely ignoring Dean.

"Sam," Dean walked up to the tub and took the sponge away from Sam. The moment it was taken away Sam started screaming.

"No, NO! I need to get clean. Give it back, give it back, PLEASE! I can feel them on me, please! Give it back!"

"Hey, hey, Sam, it's Dean, come on, look at me!"

Sam started struggling the moment Dean touched him and tried to get Sam out of the tub. Dean had put his hand in the water and it was _hot._ Dean could just imagine how bad it was for Sam to be in there and God only knew how long he had sat in the bathtub which made Dean feel sick because that meant the water might have been _hotter. _Dean also noticed another thing; Sam was slippery but not because he was wet it was because he was bleeding from a dozen cuts he had done on both of his arms.

"Oh, Sammy, c'mon kiddo, get up. It's me, Dean, your big brother."

"No, no. Dean's dead. He's gone; I want Dean back, please. Dean's dead."

"No, Sam, I'm here, hey, look at me. See, I'm here."

Dean had gotten Sam to look at him straight in the eyes. Sam stretched his bloody hand towards Dean, "Dean, you really here?"

"Yeah, yeah, Sammy, I'm here."

Sam shook his head, "No, Dean's mad at me. He's mad. I'm dirty, I'm dirty. Dean hates me. Please don't hate me."

Sam turned his head away from Dean and was staring at his hands, saying the same thing over and over again. Honestly, Sam wasn't making any sense to Dean; Dean only knew that he had to convince Sam that he was real and not mad at him, calm him down, patch him up and put him in bed.

Dean decided to drain the tub with bloody water and start petting Sam's wet hair. As the water started going down Dean noticed with horror that Sam had not only cut his arms but both his legs.

"Sammy, Sammy, why would you do this to yourself? Sammy, please look at me; answer me, please," Dean whispered the last word.

"I have to get the bugs from under my skin. They won't stop crawling, they won't stop! God, please make them stop! Please!" Sam started scratching his arms and legs.

"Hey, no more of that Sam," Dean caught both of Sam's arms and crossed them over his chest.

When the water was almost gone, Dean saw the demon killing knife by Sam's leg. He felt sick; is this what his brother had used to hurt himself? Dean got firmer grip on Sam and pulled him up so Sam was standing.

It wasn't easy; Sam was dead weight and didn't help with any of his weight at all. He kept mumbling about the bugs under his skin and Dean being gone and mad at him. Dean didn't mind though, he wanted to get his brother out of the tub and into the room so he could patch Sam up. While Dean was basically dragging Sam towards Dean's bed he noticed that Sam's skin was over heated. That made sense, who knew how long Sam had been in that tub full of hot water.

Dean sat his naked, bleeding little brother on the bed and went to go get a towel and dry Sam down. Some of his cuts had already stopped bleeding but some were still bleeding and Dean knew that they needed stitches. He started to dry Sam's ridiculously long hair and that's when he noticed that his brother was shivering so hard his teeth were rattling. A part of Dean was glad that Sam couldn't talk at all because of the cold but he also knew that if he didn't warm Sam up quickly he could go into shock because of the cold and blood lost.

"Okay, Sam, let's get you dressed up and warmed up, don't want you to get a cold."

Sam didn't answer him but Dean thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to talk to him. Maybe talking to Sam would help come back to reality quicker. Dean went to get Sam's boxers and he put them on Sam. Dean couldn't put Sam's pants on yet because he had to stitch him up.

He quickly went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit, completely ignoring the tub with its specks of blood and knife in it, and went back to Sam. Dean tried to put the thread through the needle's eyes but his hands would not stop shaking. Dean had to take a few seconds to calm down and take a deep breath before he was able to put the thread through the needle.

"Aha, I'm going to patch up, Sammy and then we can warm you up with some clothes."

The moment Dean got the needle close to Sam's leg he lost it again.

"No, please, I'll be good. Don't hurt me anymore. I am so, so sorry, please don't hurt me. I'll be good; I'll do what you want. Please don't hurt me, please, please, please, please."

"Hey, hey, Sammy it's just me. It's Dean, I just want to patch you up. You're losing blood Sammy, you're going into shock. Come on, I just want to help you. Please believe me, Sam."

When Dean noticed that Sam wouldn't calm down he got up and hugged Sam close to him not caring if his clothes were getting bloody. Sam was freezing cold and Dean started rubbing Sam's arms to warm him up. Dean hoped that if Sam felt that Dean was physically there that he would be able to crawl himself out of whatever hallucinations he saw or heard and come back to reality.

Dean held Sam closer and started breathing on top of Sam's head, rubbing Sam's arms, his face and occasionally up and down his back. Dean also started singing a song to Sam praying that his voice would reach Sam and he would acknowledge Dean's presence.

After a while Sam stopped talking to himself and it seemed like he was listening to Dean's voice. After a few minutes he looked up at Dean, lifted his arm as well as he could and started touching Dean's face. He poked both of Dean's eyes, his nose and touched Dean's mouth and cheek.

"Dean, you're real, you're here, you're not mad at me?"

"Of course I'm not mad at you, little one, why would you think that?" Dean rubbed his hand up and down Sam's back and with the other he was rubbing Sam's arm.

Sam didn't answer Dean's question, he just stayed silent and took in the feeling of Dean's presence all around him. Sam started to relax into his brother's embrace and felt himself go limp.

"Hey, Sam, you can't go to sleep yet. I have to patch you up, will you let me?"

Sam nodded his head but when he saw the needle he tensed a little.

"I know, it'll hurt a little bit but it'll help you in the long run," Dean kept talking to Sam while he started putting stitches on Sam's legs and then his arms. Sam kept trembling throughout the whole process but he didn't freak out.

When Dean was done with the stitches he dressed the stitches so they wouldn't get infected and wrapped both of Sam's legs and arms. When Dean was done with all of Sam's wounds Sam was just about to pass out. Dean had to literally maneuver Sam's long limbs to finish dressing him. He put Sam in a warm long sleeve shirt and sweatpants; Sam just let himself be manipulated like a giant doll. Dean then dragged Sam to the clean bed and laid him down.

Sam got a hold of Dean's hand and said, "Stay, please."

Dean felt his heart break a little, "I am, Sammy, there's nowhere else I'd rather be at the moment. Dean laid down besides Sam and before he could say good night Sam was fast asleep. It was the first time in a month that Sam didn't have a nightmare.

Sam woke up to a pale, faded sunlight. What time was it? He looked at the clock by the bed that read four twenty-nine. What the hell had happened? He had a headache, his arms and legs were aching, his skin felt too tight, and he felt as if something had died in his mouth.

"Rise and shine, Sammy," Sam looked towards the sound of Dean's voice and saw him sitting on the table eating a piece of pizza.

"About time you woke up, how you feeling?"

"Like crap, what happened? Did we have a rough hunt or something?"

Dean looked at Sam and said, "How much do you remember?"

"What are you talking about?" Sam got up and stumbled a little. He raised his sleeve a little because his arms were itching like crazy and that's when he saw the bandages. Everything suddenly hit Sam with the subtlety of a freight train. The feeling of the bugs under skin, the overwhelming urge to bathe in hot water and cut himself, the voices and flash backs that would not leave him alone; he felt his legs give out under him and sat on the bed hard.

"Sam, are you okay," Dean saw the moment the memories came back to Sam, he had gotten paler by the second and then he just sat on the bed as if someone had cut the strings that were holding him up.

"I, I…"

"Hey, it's okay, just breathe, Sam."

Sam looked up at Dean with bewildered eyes, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Dean just waited patiently until Sam could talk. Dean crouched by Sam and got a hold of his arm.

"Come on, you need to eat. You didn't eat breakfast yesterday, barely ate for lunch and I'm going to assume that you skipped dinner. We need to get some food in your system."

Sam got up and followed Dean to the table. Before he knew it he had a slice of pizza in front of him; it had all of his favorite toppings that Sam knew Dean hated. He tried to push the pizza away and declare he wasn't hungry but Dean wasn't having any of that. He patiently but firmly had Sam eat the pizza. It took a while Sam finished the whole pizza slice. When Sam saw that Dean was about to put another piece on his plate he put his foot down. Mental or not, he was still stubborn and he just couldn't eat anymore.

Dean cleared the table, put the rest of the pizza in the fridge and then got his chair and sat in front of Sam, staring right at Sam.

"Want to tell me what happened last night?"

Sam was silent for a few moments but Dean could wait. It's not like he had anything better to do. He had cash, they could stay in the same motel room for weeks if they needed to and order carry out. Dean had decided that neither he nor Sam was leaving the room until he could get the bottom of Sam's break down last night. Sam kept staring down at his hands, twiddling with his fingers so Dean repeated the question.

Sam shrugged his shoulders and very quietly replied, "I don't know."

"Well, let me tell you what happened to me," Dean started in a neutral voice so Sam wouldn't feel threatened or accused of doing something wrong, "I came from the bar with my winnings, hoping that you were sleeping in bed and instead found it empty and the bathroom door locked. You had mutilated your arms and legs and scrubbing your skin off when I found mumbling nonsense. It scared me, Sammy. I just want to know what triggered it."

Even though Dean was talking in a soft voice, soothing voice, Sam still flinched, "You're mad at me again. I'm sorry, I don't know what happened. Please don't be mad."

"Whoa, hey, where do you keep getting this notion that I'm mad at you; I'm not, okay. I just want to get to the bottom at this so I can help you Sam."

"You don't have to lie, Dean. After I finished changing in front of you yesterday I saw the anger in your eyes. I'm sorry I showed you my ugly body, it won't happen again. I'll change in the bathroom from now on."

Dean put his hands on both side of Sam's face and forced Sam to look at him right at his face, "Sam, I wasn't mad at you. I'm sorry you caught that and thought I was angry, but I wasn't mad at you. I was angry at those soon to be dead sons of bitches that hurt you and I was mad at myself. Not at you, Sam, I wasn't mad at you."

Sam had closed his eyes because he felt too ashamed to look straight at Dean. He had failed his brother again and gone back on old habits. Sam felt weak and useless and Dean was making it worse by being nice and understanding about it.

"Not at you, Sammy, I'm not mad at you, okay," Dean repeated when he saw Sam close his eyes. Tears started coming down Sam's cheeks and Dean wiped them away with his thumbs. Dean started getting up and was about to help Sam up when he whispered, "You keep asking me."

Dean immediately sat back down, "What was that, Sammy."

"You keep asking me for their names," He whispered, "I just want to forget and you keep asking me almost every day who they are and where they live. I don't want to tell you, Dean."

"Why's that, Sam?"

"Because then you'll go after them and you'll kill them. I don't want more blood on my hands, Dean. Please understand!" Now that Sam had started he couldn't seem to stop talking.

"Not to mention you could get hurt or worse, killed! Then I'll be alone again and _your _death and blood will be on me. And the bugs won't leave me alone! They keep crawling under my skin; I can feel them all the time! The nightmares won't stop, Dean! I can feel their hands on me and I just want to _forget_ it ever happened! And the voices won't leave me the fuck alone!"

"Hey, hey! Sam, stop. Stop it." Dean got a hold of Sam's hands because he was hitting the side of his head repeatedly. He crossed Sam's arms over his chest just like he'd done the night before.

"Okay, Sam, we'll get through this. We'll work it out, calm down, shh, shh-shh. It's okay. C'mon, let's get you in bed."

Dean helped Sam stand up and put him in the bed. This time it wasn't so bad because Sam was pulling his weight. Dean put Sam in the bed and tucked him in before he sat by Sam.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"No, shh, shh-shh, shh. You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one that should be sorry; I shouldn't kept bugging you to give me their names and reminding you all the time."

Dean felt stupid; of course Sam would eventually snap if Dean kept bringing it up, picking on old wounds so they could fester. Wasn't it just a little over a month ago that he vowed he would take care of Sam? But no, here he was reminding Sam everyday about his torment instead of discreetly finding and hunting down those evil sons of bitches.

"It's just, that we don't even hunt anymore, Dean. Hunting keeps my mind off of it and it's something for me to do. It makes me feel useful and I don't think about it as much. But we haven't been on a hunt since I told you and it makes me feel useless and weak. I know you don't want to hunt because of me, Dean."

Dean swallowed because it was true. The men who had done raped Sam were hunters. What if they were in a case and Sam ran into them? Only God knows what will happen then. Dean didn't want to risk his brother going through that again. But, it seemed, even though Dean was trying to help Sam, he was just making it worse.

"Okay, this is what'll happen. First, you need to rest. I know about the nightmares, they've kept you from a good nights' rest this whole month. Then, we'll stay here for a week. I did good yesterday, made a little over two grand. After we've both rested, we'll find a hunt in ease back into."

Sam looked up with his puppy eyes on full force, "really?"

"Yes, really, put away the puppy eyes. Sam, there is a condition first, anytime you feel like cutting or you can't take the memories anymore, tell me."

"But…"

"No buts, I need to know so I don't walk in again on you all bloody because you've hurt yourself. You need to talk about it, Sam and I know I keep saying no chick flick moments but this is different. You kept this in and it went bad very quick, deal?"

Sam nodded and spoke, "Okay, but Dean, you have to ease up, too. Part of the reason was because I felt trapped. You don't let me go out on runs or to pick up lunch without calling me every five minutes. You need to let it go, Dean, please?"

Dean felt sick, had he driven Sam completely insane with his extreme mother henning that he made his little brother relieve himself through cutting?

"Dean, stop blaming yourself. It's my crazy, it would've happened sooner or later. I've been thinking about it too much. Please, just ease up a little and I'll come to you whenever it's too much."

"Okay, Sammy, I will. One thing though, I will not stop hunting those bastards. I won't pester you anymore, but I'm a hunter, Sam. I will find them and when I do, they're dead. They were dead the moment they put their filthy hands on you, Sammy."

"I wish you wouldn't," Sam was looking straight at Dean with a pleading look on his face.

"I can't, Sam," he said with a sigh, "I just…can't."

Sam nodded, "I kinda of figured but you know, I just have to try to convince you not to."

Sam suddenly gave a big yawn. Dean got off the bed and put the blankets over Sam, "Try to convince me _after _you've had a good nights' rest."

"I just woke up, I shouldn't be this tired."

"Yeah, well, it's been tough on both of us but especially you. Sleep, Sam, I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"Promise, kiddo."

With those words, Sam fell asleep and dreamt of riding down an empty road with his brother by his side.

**So, this is the one-shot I promised. Hope you liked it; I'm going to start writing Dean's story next. I have no idea how long it'll be but it's going to be extra gruesome for those of you who want the SOBs to suffer. **

**Sorry for any mistakes, I have no beta and it's midnight while I'm finishing this. **

**Thanks for reading. **


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